P.2.Sat.10-2-07

Being a second saturday, I drop my wife in her bank and do some planting for Amma, my mother and continue cleaning and arranging and washing and eating and sitting in sit out with Dolly, my dog [actually a bitch], sleeping so secularly.Rurality has this secure yes, secular too kind of effect on people and animals and birds and even fish.The guppies in my pond are so securely hatching in hoards. It is a dirty little village pool in which dry leaves decay with fallen flowers of the grown up lebernum tree. And there is also a new little shoot which we think is a water lily, rising up and and greeting the sun. By four I go to buy tea dust and milk and make tea. Then I bathe and play Marva. Pt. Jasraj, The Sangit Marthand. Current fails and turn off. Back to my place. Facing coconuts. Young and tender. Sky is like it in Deccan. Cloudlss expanse, greying at ends. There the rag echoed and music extended its rythmic folds and expanded to take in the local forms and ethoes. The grand expanse of wavy lands and curling skies were filled with music which spilled from the decorated pots of folk dancers. Classical and folk traditions got assimilated each other, dissolving in a union which gave birth to the many styles and practices.
I dress up in kurtha, matching pants and slip ons. I will be there while they are long at tuning. Actually the musicians are tuning themselves and it gives a chance to the audience too. Let me reach.